My Fair Zia
by FranketteMoo
Summary: Birthday present for Mad Zia Magdalena! Based on the musical. Contains inside jokes, Poland, and poor people. I kid, I kid! Poland/OC/China. Yes, Poland is Higgins and China is Freddy. This should be interesting.
1. Chapter 1

**Whew. Okay, Here it is; the third birthday present. This one is a VERY early birthday gift for Mad Zia Magdalena! By very early, I mean, like, six months. But I figured I might as well get started on it. This story is a parody of the musical, _My Fair __Lady_. I have worked a lot on this, because I respect the original story and I don't want to warp it too much. Who am I kidding, Higgins is being replaced by _Poland, _for Pete's sake. Anyway, I'm not entirely confident in how this turned out. I have never written for Poland before, so I hope he's not OOC. Same for Zia, I tried to stick to you as much as possible, but Eliza is kind of whiny and that detail is important to her and Higgins' relationship. Overall, I hope you enjoy, despite the lack of inside jokes. I tried!**

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It was a fairly cold night, the night on which we meet our characters. Oh, wait, what's happening? Oh, alright. It's raining now too. Isn't that just wonderfully cliché? So, on this cold, rainy night, the only thing of significant interest was a fashion show, and even that was just ending. I know what you're thinking. "It was an opera! What kind of screwed-up story is this?" Well, I already made it known that this is a parody. Besides, can you see Feliks going to an opera? Neither can I. So deal with it. Anyway, by this time in the evening, well- dressed (and wealthy) people were pouring out of the show and onto the cold, wet pavement.

An Oriental woman emerged from the crowd, dragging her son along, in search of a taxi.

"Yao, go get me a taxi!" She said, pushing him towards the street.

"I don't want to!" Yao said back. The rain, it was all wet and stuff. Besides that, he was tired of people telling him what to do all the time. Just the other day his friends forced him to make lunch for them. So he punched through the wall.

His mother was still pushing him. "Yao, I'm going to get sick or something and it will be all your fault!"

"Fine, just stop pushing me already!" Yao finally walked into the rainy night, looking for a taxi that didn't already have people in it. He thought he saw one, across the street. He quickly walked in its direction, only to find himself colliding head-on with someone. "Ow! Hey, watch it!" He cried, regaining his balance and looking at the person he had barreled into.

"Hey, look where _you're _going, mister! I think it was _you _who ran into _me,_ not the other way around!" She yelled back, glaring up at him from the ground. She was clearly very poor. Her face and hands were gray with dirt and soot, and her hair, which was probably lighter under the dirt, was tangled and clumsily tied back.

Yao, quickly realizing his fault, reached down and awkwardly began to help the girl up. "Oh, sorry about that," he said.

Pulling away from him and picking up the flowers that had flown out of her basket when he hit her, she snapped back, "Look! Two bunches of violets- a full day's wages!- in the mud!"

He was about to apologize again, but his mother yelled at him to get a taxi again. "Yes, _mǔqīn. _I'll get one," he called back, before turning back to the girl and saying, "Sorry!" He ran back to his mother, leaving the poor girl to get as much mud as she could off of her precious violets.

"Wait, he's your son? Well, don't let him ruin my flowers and run off without paying," She said to Yao's mother, hopefully holding out her hands.

The other woman dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "Mind your own business, girl," she said, before walking off with her son.

The girl was left, once again, to brush off her flowers and mutter to herself. That is, until she saw a person who might give her money. She went and leaned against a pillar beside the man, who was also trying to hail a taxi. He looked kind, with longish light brown hair and blue eyes. He also looked like the kind of person who'd be easy to make give her money.

"Hey, mister, would you buy a flower off a poor girl?" She said, nudging him with her basket.

He said, in a somewhat shaky voice, "I'm sorry, but I don't have any money."

She was persistent. "I can make change!"

He dug around in his pockets. "I really don't have any… Oh, wait here's some, but it's not much." He deposited three small coins into her outstretched hand. Her previously very hopeful face fell a bit, but hey, it was better than nothing. She accepted the money and thanked the man.

Deciding to call it a night and head back home, she pocketed the money and began to leave, but was stopped by a redheaded woman passing by. "Hey," she muttered, clearly trying not to call too much attention to herself. "Be careful. There's some guy standing behind the pillar, and he's been staring at you for a while now." Unfortunately for her, her voice carried, and the whole crowd began peering behind the pillar.

The girl stood straight up and began freaking out. Well, just a little.

"Say _what? _How long is 'a while'? I didn't do anything, did I? I just tried to sell flowers to that awkward gentleman! Where's the harm in that? This may not be America, but I have a hunch one of my descendants will end up there! And as her however many greats-grandmother, I have the rights she will have!" She ended the mini-rant with a small, but still diabolical laugh. The crowd was torn between feeling pity for her or worrying for her mental stability. She threw her arms around the "awkward gentleman" and plead, "Don't let the creeper near me! Also you just looked like you needed a hug."

At last, the one who had apparently been staring at her came around the pillar. Admittedly, his chin-length blonde hair gave him something of a feminine quality, but he was extremely well-dressed. "Like, what are you whining about? Do you think I'm like, a freak or something?"

Upon seeing him, she shoved the man she had just been hugging in front of her and yelled, "HUMAN SHIELD!" Clearly, he wasn't very good at standing up for himself.

"Are you really thinking that I look like a creep?" The blonde-haired man asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. As outgoing as he was being, she couldn't help but notice a slight tint to his cheeks. Obviously, he wasn't really the type to deal with strangers.

She released the man she was using as a shield and cautiously approached the other. "Well, then what were you staring at me for? I mean, I know I'm a cool person, but no one's ever stared at me before."

"Well, that's not really being a surprise. I was looking at your outfit. Although I'm already having regrets." He gestured to her clothing. Rather than wear skirts or dresses like she was supposed to, she was wearing old trousers she had cut off at the knee. On the upper half of her body, she wore a simple blouse and, to shield her from the cold and rain, a rather ratty-looking jacket. Everything was mismatched and covered in a fine layer of dirt.

She scowled. "That's why are you staring at me? That's not really a valid reason!"

Her human shield finally stepped forward. "I-if there's something more, I assure you she meant no harm."

A man spoke from the crowd. "He's a gentleman, look at his shoes!"

The blonde man grinned and looked down at his feet. "I know, aren't they cool?" He looked up at the man who had pointed them out, briefly looked him over, then said, "And how's your family down the street?"

"What? Have you been watching me too?" A suspicious murmur ran through the crowd.

He shrugged. "Whatever. Anyway," he began, turning to the girl. "What are you doing all the way out here? You were born two towns over."

The girl gasped. "What? How on earth do you know that? Besides, what's the harm in me leaving? It was kind of gross, and the rent was too high."

"Yeah, okay. Live, like, wherever." He then became interested in the clothing the people around him were wearing. Meanwhile the girl plotted his demise.

"Ooh! Where am I from?" A blonde woman asked.

"What are you doing here, so far away from Ireland?" He responded.

She squealed. "That's so cool! Here, guess my husband!" She pulled him in front of her. He looked extremely uninterested, and very tired. He ran his hand through his mass of curly brown hair and sighed at his energetic wife's behavior.

The blonde man almost immediately replied, "Greece, obviously. Although I noticed your wife behaves like an American."

The woman squealed again. "Wow, you know _everything. _Are you magi-"

Another man with copper hair and a single defiant curl stepped forward and cut her off. "Ve, why don't you guess where _he _comes from?" He pointed at the man that had been used as a shield.

"Lithuania," he replied.

"Th-that's right! How do you do it?" The Lithuanian asked.

"Simple! I just look at their clothes. It's pretty easy to tell where people are from by what they're wearing. It's like, totally awesome."

The girl muttered something that sounded like "totally stupid". They ignored her and continued talking.

"Is there is living in that?"

"Oh, totally!"

She mocked him in a high-pitched voice, "Oh, totally!"

Finally he turned around towards her. "Would you just, like, stop? If you're going to keep being annoying, go someplace else!"

"I have as much right to be here as you do," she said, turning up her nose and crossing her arms over her chest.

He smirked. "Not dressed like _that, _you d-don't." His voice shook slightly, and he suddenly seemed anxious. She shrugged him off. And then, nervously, he began to sing.

"But I don't want to!" He said to the Narrator.

**Well, I told you to. So sing.**

"No!"

**Yes.**

He sighed. "Fine! But first you must show me your co—!"

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_**Please excuse this interruption; one of the actors is being too profane.**_

_**Thank you for your patience. We now return you to your scheduled programming.**_

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After a stern talking-to from the narrator, he finally began to sing.

"_Like,_ _why can't the Polish teach their children how to dress?_

_This clothing distinction, by now,_

_Should be antique. If we, like, dressed as she does, now,_

_Instead of the way we do,_

_Why, we might be selling flowers too!_

"_It's her clothes that keep her in her place,_

_Not her dirty hands and dirty face._

_So, like, why can't the Polish teach their children how to dress?_

_This distinction thing, should be like, antique._

_If we dress like she does instead of the way we do,_

_Then we might be selling flowers too."_

He then took a deep breath before hiding behind the Lithuanian human shield. "Pl-please don't hurt me!" He whimpered.

**That wasn't in the script. Man up.**

Still behind the other man, he looked thoughtfully at the now very offended girl. "I bet, if I had, like, six months, I could totally pass her off as a duchess at an Embassy ball. Or even get her a place as a maid or something."

Suddenly, she seemed interested in what he was saying. "Wait… what did you just say?"

He came out a bit from behind the Lithuanian, who seemed used to being a shield by now. "You heard me. If I taught you how to dress properly, I could pass you off as the Queen of Latifah!"

"…Of Latifah? I think you meant Sheba. Anyway, what do you think about it, Mr. Awkward Gentleman?"

He turned to her, while trying to pull himself away from the other man, who was still cowering behind him. "Well, I guess anything is possible. I know a little bit about the stuff as well, my mom made me take Home Ec. back in high school…"

The man behind him eagerly went around to face him. He said, "Oh my gosh! Do you know Toris Laurinaitis, the author of _My Mom Forced Me into Home Ec._?"

"That's me actually. And who are you?" Toris asked.

The other struck a pose. "BAM! I am Feliks Łukasiewicz, author of _The Art of Cross-Dressing!_"

Toris smiled politely. "Well, that's fun. Oh, look, there's a taxi, I must be going." He tried to walk off, but was held back by Feliks.

"Wait, where are you staying?"

"Th-the hotel, down the street!"

"Wrong! You're staying at my house, one street over! Come on, I just painted it a _wicked _hipster pink, it makes my Romanian friend so jealous!"

Toris reluctantly nodded and allowed himself to be pulled along by Feliks. As they passed, the girl stopped them. "Okay, you insulted my style choices. Would you at least buy a flower? I'm running a little behind on my rent…"

Feliks smirked back at her as he kept walking. "But I thought you said you could make change?"

She scowled. "Ugh, you know what? Why don't you just take the whole thing?" She said, thrusting the basket towards him. As she spoke, the clock tolled the second quarter. He stared up at the clock tower a moment, before finally digging in his pocket and tossing a handful of coins into her basket. Then, without another word in her direction, he left.

Stunned, she reached into the basket and looked through the coins, which seemingly increased in value as she picked them up. This was the most money she'd had in… well, this was the most money she'd had! Still in a state of shock, she carried her riches to the public fire where the other members of her social class gathered.

A rather short red-haired man, the one they simply called Becker, was the first to notice her bounty.

"Hey! Look at that! Maybe she'll share…?" He strode over to her and hugged her. She pushed him off.

"Well, not with you. Wait, Narrator?"

**What?**

"Can we just skip over this musical number? We already had one in the chapter, and it's already getting kind of lengthy."

… **I guess you're right. Okay, would you at least summarize the number to the readers?**

"Okay!" She said cheerfully, "Basically, I, along with the other poor people, sang about how lovely it would be to have things. These things include, but are not limited to: A room somewhere, one enormous chair, chocolate, warmth, sitting still, someone's head on my knee, and the same someone taking good care of me. Can we get the last part, guys?"

"_Loverly! Loverly!_

_Loverly… Loverly…"_

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**So there it was! A FranketteMoo rendition of _My Fair Lady! _I would appreciate your thoughts_. _I literally had the original script on one half of my screen, and the document on the other. So I hope it does the original justice. The chapters of this story will be longer than my others, if you can't already tell. My objective is to have one scene per chapter. So the updates might not be as fast. I apologize! **_  
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**Also, two of my OC's from other stories have a cameo in this chapter, and will probably have more later on. Can you find them? **

**To Zia, I hope you liked it! I do! If you didn't, I will... I don't know, make you some soup or something. If you didn't like this one, I hope you like the second chapter better, it will have more inside jokes. To make up for the lack of inside jokes here, I will give you one now: ENGLANDSHARKUNICORN! HAHA bye!**


	2. Meet Alfred Doolittle

**YES! Chapter two is DONE! WACHAA! This chapter is kind of short, yes, but so is Scene 2 of the actual musical. So... Yeah. **

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"All right, Doolittle! Out, get out! Milkshakes are to be paid for or not drunk at all! I'm not running a charity! Out, out, out!" The owner of the shop opened the door and tossed Alfred Doolittle out by his collar. He regained what posture he had and wiped off his milkshake mustache. He turned back to the shop owner gave him a look of wounded honor.

"Well, thanks anyway, I guess." He waved to the irritated man and turned to his buddies, who had also been kicked out. "Well, looks like I need to find Zia. I think the FREEDOM I give her is worth a little…"

One of the men with him looked very similar, but spoke very softly in comparison. "I think that's a nice thought, but if you want that money from Zia, you're going to need a good reason…" Just as he said it, Zia walked past.

Alfred laughed and said to her, "Zia! Just the girl I was looking for!"

Without missing a beat, or even looking at her father, Zia said, "No," and kept walking. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.

"C'mon, Zia! Do you want your poor old father to die of thirst?"

"You're not _that _old. And I don't think milkshakes are the best way to keep yourself alive."

Alfred forced tears into his blue eyes and looked down at his daughter. "Pleeeeease? Just a _little_ bit of money?"

Zia sighed, "What are you trying to pull off?"

"Never mind. I just want some money."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "All you do is blow it on milkshakes. Maybe if you spent it on clothes, or food, or deodorant..."

He said, "HAHA! That's funny. You think those things matter. No, Zia, milkshakes matter. Besides, think of all this FREEDOM you get! Don't I deserve something in return for all the FREEDOM?"

Finally, she grudgingly dug in her pockets and pulled out some of the coins she had gotten earlier. "Fine. Whatever. I happen to have had some luck earlier. But don't think this means you can start bugging me for money every time you get kicked out of places."

"YAY!" He hugged her before patting her on the head. "You're officially awesome again!"

"When was I ever not awesome...?" She asked.

"When you were almost not going to give me money," he said plainly.

Zia was torn between amusement and irritation. "Well, I'm awesome now! MWAHAHAHA!"

They shared a father-daughter laugh, which attracted some odd looks from the surrounding public.

"...'Kay, bye!" He said abruptly, leaving her to gather more flowers and contemplate.

Once out of her earshot, he said to his companions, "See? All you need to get by is luck and FREEDOM!"

And then, yes, there was singing. But earlier, Alfred expressed to the Narrator the fact that he didn't want to sing. And he used the puppy-dog face. So the Narrator had no choice but to give in. (Besides that, he changed the lyrics to include the activities between a friend of his and a shark.)

Meanwhile, Zia stood in her place and continued to contemplate. The words from the professor kept running through her mind.

"_I bet, if I had, like, six months, I could totally pass her off as a duchess at an Embassy ball. Or even get her a place as a maid or something."_

_"I could pass you off as the Queen of Latifah!"_

True, she had never really indulged vanity. But it was still an attractive offer. Where did he say he lived? One street over. That wasn't a very detailed description, but he had also said that he had painted his house pink, so that would probably make it easy to spot.

She thought about it for a bit, before finally making a decision.

It was time to pay the cross-dresser a visit.

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**That was kind of dramatic. I LIKE IT. Anyway, I'm doing the best I can with updates. I'm not even in my residential time zone at the moment. But, hey, at least I'm updating at all.**

**Also, it was brought to my attention how close this story and my most recent one are to the original script. For this story, I looked at the original, because I didn't want to warp this story to a ridiculous extent. And for my Beauty and the Beast story, I have a medical condition that causes me to memorize the lines in Disney movies. So I can't really help it, but I'll try.**

**So, hopefully by this time next week, I'll have updated _The Beast Likes Tomatoes. _But that doesn't really matter, TODAY IS JELLIEYUMYUM'S BIRTHDAY! She grew up so fast, snif snif.  
**

**Please review!**


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